the ff

I'm not too keen on the Fatty Friends (FF).

They've got socks for brains and act like they couldn't give a toss about what goes on in other people's lives, but I know for a fact that they actually do, because the next thing you know, they'd be badmouthing you to the next person, somewhere along the lines of: "As if people care about what goes on in her life - bee-yotch. Such a social outcast."

It is precisely because they care that they are bitching about other people in the first place.

I mean, I should be charitable.

They're a bunch of fatties, grown on a staple diet of McValue meals. No one could possibly love them under all those layers of wobbly, squishy fat (lean meat one per cent). I bet you you can't even find the folds of their vaginas because they're hidden beneath all the other 300,674 thousand layers of fat.

They've probably got an emergency ham sandwich tucked in somewhere there in case their pockets ever run out of space.

I mean, they're just probably insecure.

"Who are her? She just stole away our friend, lorz!" they moan and groan to all their other FF.

"Aww. Don't be the sadz. She is just a bee-yotch and our friend will soon be sick of the floozy. Here, have another ham sandwich," their FF console.

And then life is all good for the FF - but just only till they run out of ham sandwiches.